Nothing to See Here…

I am a dreamer.

Oh, not the kind of dreamer you might now be imagining, not the kind the dreams of a kinder, gentler, war-free world where everyone goes to bed with a full tummy.  Not the kind who reflects upon the future and creates lofty goals to pursue that may or may not be achievable in reality.  Not that kind who gets caught up in her own thoughts about daffodils in bloom while staring out the window in the middle of an important meeting about business continuity plans.  Not those kinds of dreamers.

I am the kind of dreamer who wakes up most mornings with a conscious remembrance of the dream I just left behind.  Sometimes, like today, I wake up remembering two completely separate dreams.  I occasionally do that vivid dreaming thing where I am aware of the fact that I am dreaming while I am dreaming, and I can direct my dreams.  Vivid dreaming is cool.  I can’t predict when it will happen, and I perhaps only do it a few times a year, but I enjoy the heck out of it when I do it.

I think part of my dream landscape has to do with my constantly interrupted sleep patterns.  I had a sleep study last year and evidently I have frequent disturbances during the night.  I have mild apnea and many other unexplained sleep disturbances.  I think these things are partly the reason I have such sharp and vivid recall of my dreams.

Sometimes I dabble in trying to understand my dreams.  Who knows how accurate I am when I do it; it’s mostly just for fun.

This morning, I woke up with the most detailed, vivid recall of a dream that I have had in quite some time.  Even now, many hours after waking up, it’s still with me, sharp, fresh.  My friend referred to this as a dream hangover.  That’s what I have.

I did not, however, need to dabble in interpretation.  Before I even lifted my head off the pillow, I was crystal clear on the meaning of this dream.  It is a powerful, poignant dream, perhaps the most powerful dream I have ever had save the time my long-dead grandfather came to visit me in a dream.  (I’m still not certain that particular dream wasn’t somehow a cross over between this world and some other, the one where his spirit now lives, but I digress.)

I was on a boat.  It wasn’t a fancy boat; just a plain ol’ fishing boat.  I sat in the back of the boat.  My job was to make the boat go where it needed to go.  I didn’t have paddles or oars, there was no motor.  I don’t recall how I made the boat go, but clearly I must have done this as it was my responsibility.  The waters were choppy, sometimes dangerously so,  My job was a hard one.

On the front of the boat was a woman.  I couldn’t see her face as her back was to me.  She was on the boat doing a job too.  Her job involved her facing outward, away from me.  She didn’t want to do her job, of this I was aware.  In fact, in the dream I was aware that she had given up on her job many times before.  She just gave up and fell into the water and sunk down.  I knew, in my dream, that I was the one who dove in to save her all those times.  That was hard.  I had to dive into the water and find her and then drag her heavy and lifeless body back into the boat.  I had to convince her to do her job. 

In my dream, I could tell she was thinking about giving up and going into the water again.  I knew I should talk her out of it - tell her that she should soldier on.  I knew I should talk her down off the ledge.  I knew that if she went into the water again, I would be expected (by whom I wasn’t clear) to dive in and save her and get her back on her feet.  I really didn’t want to.  I was so tired of saving her.  So tired.

In my dream, I convinced myself that it was really her decision and it wasn’t my place to constantly be encouraging her to keep going, try again, stay strong.  I decided that if she went into the water, I would just let her go.  I would let her drown.

This was a relief to me, this decision.  I was relieved.

And so she did.  She just sort of collapsed into the water and sunk down.  I sat in my seat at the back of the boat and let her.  I did nothing.

The next thing I was aware of in this dream was being back in my regular life, away from the water.  All normal stuff, people, home, family, jobs, etc.  I kept waiting for someone to come ask me about the woman from the front of the boat.  I knew I would have to tell what I saw, what I witnessed.  I waited and waited and waited and no one asked.  It’s like they didn’t even know she was gone, as if she never existed.  I was perplexed and anxious and sad.  I felt guilty for my part in her disappearance.  How could no one notice she had sunk down into the water and disappeared?

I received a package in the mail and I opened the brown box.  Inside was a bottle that was labelled Fish Oil.  My dream persona knew exactly what this was meant to do.  I went immediately to the water and I poured it in.  This was a magic potion that was meant to bring her back, the woman from the front of my boat.  When I poured it in, the water swirled and there she was - I could see her in the water!  But just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone again.  She disintegrated right before my eyes.

I was angry.  The Fish Oil wasn’t magic.  I was naive for believing there was anyway to bring back the woman from the front of my boat - she was gone and I just had to accept it.  There are no magic potions. 

I sat at the side of the water and cried.  I cried because the woman was gone and I didn’t save her.  I cried because I didn’t prevent her demise.  I cried because I was too tired to fight for her and I just let her go.  I gave up on her and let her go. 

The woman on the front of the boat was me, the exterior of me - my body.  The me at the back of the boat was the essence of me, the inner me.

No need to analyze it, really.  The title of this post was my attempt at being clever, not that I find humor here at all. 

I have just laid bare my psyche to all of you.  I even understand myself better after this.  I just don’t know what to do about it.

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